


The Honey Trap

by msgenevieve



Series: Double or Nothing [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Modern times, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1316851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She notices him long before the Frisbee lands in her lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Honey Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt, which asked for Killian using his nephew to get women, but it doesn't work on Emma.

~*~

 

She notices him long before the Frisbee lands in her lap.  She would have had to have been blind not to notice him. Messy dark hair, dark stubble decorating a square jaw, and long, long legs that fill out his faded jeans to perfection.  Just the type she usually likes and sadly, also just the type she doesn’t find out is married or dating someone else until the morning after.

And, of course, he’s playing Frisbee with a mini-me version of himself, just to rub salt into the proverbial wound.  She learned a long time ago that no good can come over pining after an already attached man.  Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.

Still, he’s a very nice distraction during an otherwise dull lunch break spent in the park closest to her next job.  There’s nothing like a sandwich, some Vitamin D and a browse of a mindless romance novel to get her in the zone before tackling her next scheduled bail absconder, but watching a very pretty man with a perfect ass leaping around after a Frisbee isn’t bad either.

She watches him surreptitiously over the top of her sunglasses for a while, doing her best to ignore the way her damned heart pings every time the kid beams up at him.  Cute kid, too.  Dark curly hair, same colouring as his father, same habit of rolling his eyes every time he misses the Frisbee.   The kid’s not very good at the whole tossing thing, and the guy does quite a bit of stretching and leaping, and Emma would be lying if she isn’t impressed each time his black t-shirt rides up to reveal a flat stomach and a line of dark hair that vanishes intriguingly into the waistband of his jeans.

Giving herself a mental shake, she tries to concentrate on her book, but she’s fighting a losing battle.  There’s a free live action performance happening right in front of her, and she’s starting to wonder if the two of them have inhaled a Red Bull each, because neither of them seem to be flagging in the energy stakes.

It’s only when she catches sight of both of them huddled in deep conversation a third time that she begins to suspect things might not be as simple as they seem, because the kid keeps looking over at her around the guy’s legs. 

_Aha._

When it finally happens, she can’t help smiling, because it’s perfectly executed.  There’s a cry of “Look out!” and then their Frisbee drops neatly into her lap.  A few seconds later, the guy trots over to the bench where she’s sitting, his pretty face arranged in an apologetic expression. “So sorry about that, love.”

_Oh._

Well, this complicates things.  It seems like he has a very pretty accent to go with his very pretty face.  She’s still not buying it, though, because the last thing she needs is to get tangled up with a single dad, newly divorced dad, whatever the hell he might be, no matter how devastatingly attractive he might be.

“Not a problem.” Handing the Frisbee back to him, she gives him a detached smile, telling herself it would be mean to give him any false hope. “Any more off course and you’d be buying me a new Kindle, though.”

Now that he’s close enough, she can see that - as well as all the other attributes she’s been admiring - he also has a very nice smile and the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. “I’m glad to hear it.”  He juggles the brightly coloured Frisbee from one hand to the other, his gaze never leaving hers.  “Perhaps I could just buy you a cup of coffee instead?”

She opens her mouth to refuse, then shuts it again.  Her usual MO in this situation would be to roll her eyes and make a hasty retreat, but something about this guy makes her want to needle him a little, just to see what happens, and she honestly can’t remember the last time that happened. 

So, instead of leaving, she looks at the little boy hovering at his side, then back at the adult, whose nicely muscled chest (okay, she’s been looking for a while now, and his t-shirt _is_ kinda threadbare) is rising and falling with the effort of all that leaping and stretching.  “I’m impressed. Most guys use a puppy, you know?”

“Pardon?” His mock confusion is more than a little appealing, and she feels her hands tighten around her ebook.

“Let me give you a piece of advice, pal.”  She smiles up at him.  “I track down shady types for a living.  I know there are all kinds of honey traps, and this little guy is a pretty cute one.”

He quirks a dark eyebrow at her, wide mouth still curved in a smile. “That’s quite the cynical outlook you have there, lass.”

“Maybe, but you know what they say.”  She nods at the kid shifting from one foot to the other beside him.  “Never work with children or animals.”

“Uncle Killian, can we go now?”  The kid tugs at the pocket of the guy’s jeans, clearly having reached the limits of his attention span. “You said I only had to throw it until she talked to you.”

Emma raises her own eyebrows as _Uncle Killian_ shoots her a sheepish grin, then fights off just another weird ping in her chest as he crouches down to talk to the child.  “Of course, laddy.”  He hands him the Frisbee, then turns him around to face in the opposite direction. “Your da should be back with your ice-cream by now.”

Sure enough, there’s another dark-haired guy loitering in the background near the swings, ice-cream in hand, and Emma notices two things at once.  Uncle Killian isn’t wearing a wedding ring, and the kid looks way more like the other guy.  Once the child is safely headed towards his actual father, the perpetrator of one of the most clichéd pick-up scenarios in history turns back to her and raises his hands in mock surrender. 

“Well, now _I’m_ the one who’s impressed.”  His sweeping gaze is subtle, but she still feels it burning from the soles of her knee-high boots to the top of her pony tail, effortlessly taking in everything that lies between the two.  “You must be very good at your job.”

“I am.” Pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, she tilts her head back to look at him in the eye, which pretty much backfires instantly, because the moment his gaze locks with hers, the pit of her belly explodes with something she wants to say is just lust but might just be a weird kind of recognition and she so doesn’t need this right now.  “And coffee would be nice, actually.”

He looks startled, and she knows how he feels, because she didn’t plan on still being here, making conversation, let alone accepting a date.  And yet here she is. “Really?”

“Yep.” Getting to her feet, she gathers up her things and starts to back away, before she does something stupid like stepping closer to him to see if he smells like she thinks he does, sunshine and clean sweat.  “I won’t be free until six, though.” 

“That’s fine.” He finally jolts back into action, closing the distance between them with a few easy strides.  “Wait, love, I didn’t get your name.”

“That would be because I haven’t told you it yet, _love._ ” She turns to walk away, but not before she sees the broad grin that flashes across his face.  No point making things too easy for him, because if he doesn’t enjoy a challenge, then he’s picked the wrong girl.   “It’s Emma.”

“See you back here at six then, _Emma._ ”

His accent caresses the two syllables of her name almost lovingly, and something clenches low in her belly.   She blows out a heated breath as she walks away, feeling his gaze on her the whole way across the park.  She almost hopes the next perp puts up a fight, just so she can blow off some steam, because she feels restless and uncomfortable, like her clothes are suddenly a size too small.

Oh, and apparently she’s just been snared by one of the oldest honey traps in the book, and all with her full knowledge and consent.   She’ll definitely have to make sure her boss never finds out.

~*~

His name is Killian Jones, his brother’s name is Liam, his five year-old nephew’s name is James.  And when he finally kisses her - five minutes before midnight - his hands on her face as gentle as his mouth is fierce, she can barely remember her _own_ name.

 

~*~


End file.
